A Man Called Home
by BrightlyShining
Summary: When things got from good to worst he sees no other way than to flee them. But Jason Gideon is not alone as he leaves Quantico towards unknown destinations. A man and his ferret see how wounds are healed... and how destruction overruns them once again.


**Author's Note:**

This is my contribution to the 13th round of the _Chit Chat on Author's Corner_ challenge _The Dog Days Of Summer_. My character of choice was Jason Gideon and even though I had hoped to be assigned a goldfish or some sort of bird, I liked having to write something out of a ferret's point of you, too. If one of my friends wouldn't own two ferrets I would have been absolutely screwed though and now that I think about it, taking Gideon to write about wasn't the smartest thing to do either.

The non-flashback parts of this story are set somewhere after Gideon leaves in Season 3. This story will contain spoilers to "The Evolution of Frank" - but, honestly, if you haven't watched it yet this story won't ruin the episodes for you though. I'm not telling anything spectacular in here, really.

Please notice that I do not own Criminal Minds. The additional characters are made up by me though. And also: I don't own a ferret.

This story has not been beta-ed, mainly because I'm still not sure if it's okay to have someone beta it for it's a personal entry for a contest and getting any help doesn't really seem fair.

Please, please, please leave a review**!** I would be very happy about reading any, positif ones as well as those of whoever dislikes this story.

Hope you enjoy,

-**_AJ_**

* * *

><p><em>We call them dumb animals, and so they are, for they cannot tell us how they feel, but they do not suffer less because they have no words.<em>

-Anna Sewell

* * *

><p>I can feel his blood all over me. It's warm, too warm as would be comfortable, and sticky, same issue here. Soon my fur is soaked with his blood and it makes me heavy. I can barely move but I don't know what to do either.<p>

The problem is that people don't seem to think too well of us ferrets. I can even comprehend - at least with parts of the natural distrust.

I think the main reason is that we stink. Even when we're clean and live in a clean environment and eat clean, good things we smell like a hug piece of crap and that's not a quality good enough to mention during a job interview or at any other time, actually. Also, smelling individuals have a hard time earning someone's trust, loyaltiy, sympathy or, now that I think about it, anything else but disgust.

According to the theory my father once taught me and which happened to be his only heritage to me -he wasn't rich, neither in property nor genetics- the second reason for why not everybody loves us -despite our personality, which is wonderful at least at some times- is that he thinks people mistake us with weasels. Those, to clarify, are ugly, mean, devious and generally some long, hair bastards that you don't want to build up a relationship to. Ever. At this point I want to warn you. In all honesty - if you happen to be one of those weasel fans I tell you, I beg you, to stop. It's not too late. Cut all contacts. For your own good; for everyone elses' good; for the world's peace.

However, he's bleeding quite a lot and I'm sitting next to him, in a puddle of blood that I don't like as much as I like weasels. And I don't know where to go. For a ferret there aren't many places to go to. As I said - we're not unpopular not that that likable either. I'm afraid of becoming homeless. because yes, I've been through hard times, too. But never outside. never out in the 'real world'. I had to deal with humans but not with myself.

Am I worried? Yes.

Am I surprized? Again, yes.

* * *

><p><em>The doorbell rings as the man who walks into the store, looking just like every other customer, pushes it open.<em>

_"Good morning, sir", Mr. Jones greets him, who sits behind the counter, reading a newspaper, looking as lazy as he wouldn't care at all abut his business. If fact I'm pretty sure I'm able to tell with quite some certainty that he indeed couldn't care less. Pecan, the sweet budgie from next cage, constantly talks and fights with his mirror reflection ever since his wife Jojo died two months ago, and Mr. Jones didn't do anything about it. Jojo died from what could have been something called the parrot disease and he should have consulted a vet about it. Instead we were witnesses to him throwing her in the garbage can like she was a used paper towell. He's a disgusting man and we'll probably all be dead due to his laziness one day._

_"Good morning", the customer replied and smiled. I like that smile. It makes him resemble to a boxer or probably a pup dog and even though I don't like dogs and they don't like me I think it's cool when humans look like that._

_The man walks around, having a closer look at the fish tank. I don't understand why he does it. Fish are boring. They are easy to handle, but so am I. They don't smell at all, which might be nice, but they aren't cute either, which I am. Totally._

_"Can I help you?", Mr. Jones asks and stands up. Woah, a miracle happening here. He farts the next second, groans and slowly scuffs around the counter, scratching his ass. Okay, I was wrong. No miracle. He's just as charming as usual._

_"I'm looking for a pet."_

_"Oh, y'are?" His muttering is killing his sarcasm off and the accustomed matter of idiocy is the only thing that's left._

_"Indeed, I am", the man answers, ignoring the clumsy potshot, "I have a busy job so I'm searching for a pet that can be left alone."_

_"What 'bout fish?"_

_"Oh, I'd prefer to buy something different." And then he says the words that cause me to fall in love with him. "I like furry things a lot better. Maybe something I can take with me... you know like on my arm or shoulder. A hamster maybe?"_

_"We ran out of hamsters." To tell you the truth - they died. Carla, the only snake of the shop, escaped and ate them all up. I miss SJ, the young hamster lady with the best of british humor, but being mad on Carla isn't an easy thing to do either. She's fun to be around, non of us can deny that, and during normal times the only ones of us that grow up being afraid of her are the mice. And, with all due respect, nobody likes the pesky mice with their high-pitched voices and their endless (high-pitched, ecstatic moaning) sex. Don't they realize that their children will end up as snaks anyways?_

_"Oh, I see. Anything else you would suggest?"_

_"Yeah, this one's nice. Ol' but a'right." Mr. Jones walks over to my cage, opens it and put in his hand to get me. I hold still. Every animal in here does. Being nice is what'll get you out of here. And no matter what place this is - the thing it's all about is that we're leaving this crappy store. Every other place is better. Even the sticky, chocolate-smeared fingers of a five year old._

_But the man's hands are nice, really. They are warm and soft. Gentle. Again, he smiles and I smile, too. He doesn't notice if, of course, because humans never know when a pet smiles. But I do it to brighten up my aura a little. It's covering some of my worse features up._

_"Who is he?"_

_"Called him Googles. But there's no rule you can#t name him different."_

_"Googles? Why?"_

_"He needed a name. And I like to go swimming."_

_I chuckle, but only a high squeak is audible. Even I know that Mr. Jones it talking nonsense. The man keeps smiling and I think he knows that I understood. It's the first time that I share something with a human. And, to my surprise, it feels good._

_"I think Googles will come with me."_

_And then he pays, takes me on his shoulder and we leave into fresher air._

* * *

><p>It's not the first time I see human blood.<p>

It's not the first time that I watch a human being die. Heck, he's not even dying the worst kind of death I've ever witnessed. And yet, I am surprized to find myself in this kind of position and for sure I don't want him to die.

His head turns around and I can look straight into the eyes. Their deepness amazes me every time I look at them but the pain that they speak off is new to me. I've seen worse pain in other eyes. But not in his. His eyes are troubled and sad. But whenever I saw them they were calm. They were the only ones I've ever seen to be troubled and yet full if piece.

They saw me. _Saw_ me like nobody else had seen me before. They looked at me in affection, despite who I am. And even know they say he is a good man.

But this time they don't see me though. He's hurt. badly. And he can't see me. That is something that's never going to change. When you're hurt you're alone. No matter who is there, no matter who cares about you - you're alone. Never ever will you feel true, final pain in company.

* * *

><p><em>"Please, please don't. Jason will be back every minute. He'll put you down - just go now and we'll be all fine-"<em>

_"Oh, don't worry about that", the man chuckled and slowly approached her, "I'll be gone by the time he's back. He'll know I've payed him a visit but I'll be alright, you know..."_

_Her voice causes me pain. I don't really know her. We didn't had time to build up a relationship. But Jason likes her and therefor I like her as well. She looks nice and she smells good. She fed me some vitamin paste earlier and even though that's all I know it's enough to make me want to not see her hurt._

_The man's eyes are cold and even a weasel could tell that he's not one of the good guys. He holds a knife in his hands. His smile is evil, too. My heart rate goes up fast. Where's Jason? Where did he go? I desperately hope he'll be back in time. It wouldn't be enough to save the night, sure. But if he'd save a life... well, he should just show up soon._

_Then I see the injection he holds in his hands and I shiver. I got a couple of shots after he got me from that shop and I didn't like it very much. And if the evil man uses it I'm sure it's even worse. The shots I got were good, I don't understand but yet I know it. An evil man's shots can't do any good. They aren't supposed to do so and even though I don't know him I know (yeah, I know plenty of stuff) that how he entered just a minute after Jason had left got to mean something. he's smart. Too smart to fail._

_He'll be done and gone in time. And I'll be here but it won't be the same._

_No._

_I watch him proceed and I keep looking in her eyes. I know she can see. Not me,though. She doesn't look back._

_But yet I can't let her alone. He shouldn't be the only one to look at her and even though she might only see him it just got to mean something that she is not alone. I want to take my eyes off her quickly. But I can't._

_No._

_No, it won't be the same._

* * *

><p>"Steven?"<p>

I slowly take a small step back. His blood is sippery under my paws and it stinks. The smell of metall reminds me of the cage I had to stay in and of the junkyard where I used to stay for a while. It reminds me of the rusty riding mower that killed my mother and, of course, of what had been done to Jason's friend by that man.

"Steven?", he mumbled again, his voice getting weaker with every breath he takes, "Steven, is that you?"

I shake my head without making an impact to the situation. I had always enjoyed our conversations, even though they were, due to my lack of responsive abilities, quite one-sided. It hadn't been a problem to me, but now it for sure was.

"Wait, Steven... wait. Where are you going?"

"He's not here."

Jason can't here what I say but my only hope is that he hears me at least saying _something_. Maybe he'll know that I am here and maybe this will tell him that Steven is most likely with his family at his home. Maybe he'll remember that we just had a car accident and that he flew through the windscreen. Maybe he'll remember that he was about to die.

"Steven, please. Stay. Don't go now, I need you-"

If I could count to more than fifty (Ralph the parrot taught me, he lived with a circus performer until this very crushed his neck while doing a triple salto from a trapeze) I would start to count his breaths now. It's instinct, not rationality.

One. Two. Three.

"It was good to see you again."

* * *

><p><em>I can feel him trembling under my paws but he is a man of action, takes a deep breath and approaches the house with bounding but unsecure strides. I like the big, old house we're in front of. It's not too neat but neither is it rundown (except for stiffy old men maybe) or neglected. The grass isn't frshly cut and has just the right lengh for me to be happy with it. Or well, maybe a little later.<em>

_Jason knocks at the door and takes another deep breath, trying to wait patiently. A woman opens the door and, as soon as she recognizes Jason and spots me, smiles at us._

_"Jason", she greets him in surprise and opens the door wider._

_"Carol", he answers and smiles awkwardly, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."_

_"We always have an open door for you, you know that. Come in."_

_"Thank you."_

_From the inside I like the house even better. It's clean but there are thin layers of dust at those parts you don't clean every day. The carpet is thik and fluffy. Jason removes his shoes. He seems to know how things are handled here, even though I have no idea where we are._

_"It's really good to see you again", Carol smiles and gives him a short hug, meticulously paying attention to not squeaze me as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "and we haven't heared of each other in quite a while, too."_

_"I had to figure out some things. But I'm glad to get to see you, too."_

_"We were worried about you, you know that?"_

_"Why?"_

_"After we heard what happened-", she chokes off, obviously struggling to find the right words to say, "life hasn't been gentle with you at more than one occasion. And nobody can take all the bad things."_

_"How do you know what happened?"_

_"Steven and I... we read it. It was all over the news. I mean the whole story with Frank Breitkopf and... you were mentioned as this one woman's friend and expert in the case and... we really wated to talk to you after we found out what happened but we tried to call you and the people from the hire company told us you moved without properly terminating your contract with them...", Carol frowns and then tries to smile again. I like her smile. I'm not accustomed to human beauty but I guess she counts as a person who is naturally pretty. "I suppose you're here to catch up with Steven, mainly. I know you wanted to meet but it's been a busy time for the both of you. He's playing in the living room with Lilly, we just finished supper. You can have some too, of you want."_

_"That yould be very nice."_

_"At all times for you, Jason."_

_Carol turned around and Jason followed her into the living room. Big windows, cozy upholstery and a nice, old-fashioned kitchen. A young man and a little girl sat in front of a huge bookcase of dark wood, midway through a game of parcheesi. The girl couldn't be older than four and looked just like Carol. Her dark brown hair had shoulder-length and her round face showed the same bright sweet smile. But she shared her wide eyes with both her parents. I can see the deep peace I love so much in her eyes too, just as I see it in her fathers's and her mother's eyes. Jason's son sure found a woman who is just like he must be (presumed that he is like his father, just luckier)._

_The man gets up and approaches us._

_"Dad", he says, not dismissively but distanced, "I didn't knew you were coming."_

_"Me neither", Jason answers, "but I wanted to see you again for years and... it was about time to, I guess."_

_"_About time to_ was years ago. Like when I graduated from university. When Lilly was born." Steven makes a short pause and when he continues his voice suddenly turns icy, "when mom died."_

_"Tina and I had many problems and-"_

_"-and you had me. If you didn't come to her funeral for her that's fine. But you could have showed up for your son."_

_"I know. And one of the reasons I'm here for is that I want to apologize. I made mistakes, a lot of them, and I'm sorry for what I did."_

_"You need us."_

_"Of course I do."_

_The following silence is hard to endure, even for me who isn't involved at all. I am relieved as I see Steven nodding and offering Jason a seat. They both sit down at a large couch, face to face with each other. There is the coffee table between them, but yet every distance that had built up between them during the year vanished within a second. I feel how Jason's shoulders lose some of their tensions and simultaneously to them I can relax as well._

_Carol continues to play Parcheesi with Lilly, taking Steven's color over. Lilly wins but that's no surprise. Back in the days when I was a younker my father used to let me win our play-fights, too and my mother vowed how I was probably the most gifted young athlete she had ever seen. I miss those days. Good ferrets should not have been forced to experience what they had to go through..._

_"Carol told me you read of what happened", Jason said, thankfully interrupting my thoughts._

_"Yes. And we're sorry for your loss. It must have been horrible."_

_"I got over it."_

_Steven snorts. "Yeah, dad. Tell it to the marines."_

_"Why don't you believe me?"_

_"Well, first of all: You're here."_

_"Steven, I-"_

_"No, no that's fine. really. It's good to see you again."_

_"Then what's secondly?"_

_"You just left. Abandoned all your stuff. It's just you and a ferret." He glances at me and I try to look as nice as possible. Some don't like to have animals, not even pets like me, in their house. "At least that's how it seems. You even left the cabin behind and I remember you loved it." Steven smiles and spaces out for a moment. "Oh my, I loved that cabin just as much."_

_"I just couldn't stay. I couldn't take being there. It used to make me happy. But not any more."_

_"I understand. Where... where do you live now?"_

_"Here and there. Motels, mostly. And I still have a car."_

_"But you don't have a real home? A place to return to?"_

_"I lost mine and I when I left I had no intention to return to any place."_

_"Dad?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Would you like having a new home?"_

* * *

><p>Steven and Carol invited us for diner the other night. Lilly's with a sitter.<p>

"I can't let him down again", Jason mumbles. My whole body shakes but I make a few steps towards him again and stop when my fur touched one of his stretched out hands. He gently pats my head and I am relieved to know that he's back to reality for at least a short moment, even though being here is probably worse to him.

For a second I remember drifting in a creek of murk, thinking I was surrounded by the warm bodies of friends and family instead of the sap their blood is mixed up with. The illusion had been so much nicer than the hard whacks of reality. I want to go back there, at some times. I want to drown with peace rather than to breathe solitude.

"He'll think I left again. They'll hate. They'll never know..."

The deep, roaring sound of an engine makes me sit up and take notice. Next moment a cone of light shines upon us and someone, standing out as dark silhouette, approaches us. I shiver and feel how every muscle in my body stiffens. It doesn't have to be a good person. No matter how bad a situation is - there's nothing saying it can't get any worse. I'm bracing myself to fight to death, if necessary. No way I'm letting Jason get hurt. I'm not a ferret of a character that is as good as I would like it to be. But, heck, I have my pride. And my pride forbids me to just stand there and observe. I already said how Jason is a man of action.

Well, there's such a thing as a ferret of action, too!

"I saw the lights of your car ad wondered whether you need any help?", I hear the voice calling. It's a woman and she sounds young. As she's coming closer I can see that she indeed can't be much older than 25. But her age isn't enough to make me stop worrying. It's not that easy to practice a fraud on me. I've seen to much. Oh, how much I've seen...

"Oh my gosh!", the woman gasps as she sees Jason lying in the grass in front of the car. She starts to run and fingers her cell out of her pocket at the same time, dialing 911 with flying fingers.

"My son is waiting for me", Jason says in a whisper, "I need to see Steven, he needs to know I didn't leave agan..."

"Don't... don't worry, yes? You'll be fine. I will- of, what the fuck! Screw it, SCREW IT!" She angrily throws her cell away which I don't consider a smart move. "No service out here."

I don't exactly know what she's talking about. It even took me quite a while to accept the miracles of phones and television. What I don't understand though is how the miracle items stop working whenever people really are in need of a miracle.

"Maybe I can get you in my car and I'll drive you to the next ER", she thought out loud and shakes her head as soon as she hears her own words. We all know it's hopeless.

Then she sees me and smiles a very little, very sad smile before she takes me in her hands and lifts me up, utting me on her shoulder.

"You're wounded, you should be kept away from pets." It's a desperate attempt to do something to safe him. Then she takes a deep breath and calms down. "Okay, my name is Ellyssa Skye. Elle, preferably. I'll do my best to get you help. Who are you?"

"Elle", Jason says, "I knew another Elle. She would have done the same thing..."

"Well, that's nice", Elle answers and takes a long, thin, colorful scarf off her neck to pull it tightly around his right arm, which is wounded. I am amazed to see how the bleeding lessens. If only I had knows of this back then... "But I need to know who yo are. I'll call your son as soon as we're at a hospital so he can come visiti you. What's your name?"

She lifts me up for a second to strip out of her woolen coat. Then she squeezes it and presses it on his stomach, hesitating as she realizes she needs to fix it with something so it'll stay in place. Then she lets go of it, runs to the car and comes back with the obligatory ambulance box, continuing to try to save my friend.

"Gideon", he mumbles.

"_Warrior_. You're strong, right? Then you'll make it, okay? You'll amke it."

"Jason... Jason Gideon", he says his full name and Elle smiles at him with all her strenght.

"Jason means _Healer_. That's got to mean something."

"Not now. No, not now..."

"Whx shouldn't it mean something now. You can make it, I know you can-"

"Go drive to the next gas station or whatever you happen to come across. You can get help there. But you'd be smarter to ask for the coroner than for the ambulance."

"I can't do this. How could I just leave you behind."

"It's the only chance. You know it."

And so do I.

I know that he knows he'll die.

I know that he doesn't want her to watch him die.

I know that she'll eventually leave because while it's impossible to leave him behind without anybody it would be even more impossible to leave a corps to get help then.

And, most of all, I know that he doesn't want to die.

I know that he really, sincerely wishes to live because he survived destruction many times, but for the first time something beyond sanity is there, waiting for him.

Elle nodds and stands up, hesitatingly going back to her car.

And me? The both of us know I'll be staying with her. It's a new chapter of my life. I'll have a new home, again and a new loved one. The time will come when everything's going to be over. But that's my life. I don't know where I'm going to. Therefor there is no destination. Therefor there is no safe haven, no home, ad end of a period but not an end of the actual way. No limit that I know.

* * *

><p><em>One may have a blazing heart in one's soul and yet no one ever come to sit by it. Passersby see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on the way.<em>

- Vincent VanGogh

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading!<strong>


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